


Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

by MidnightWriterPhilosopher



Series: Prelude Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Betrayal, Cycle of Time, Demigod Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter in Azkaban, Mutilation, Reference to Torture, References to Ancient Celtic Religion and Lore, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Polytheism, Transcendent Mage Harry Potter, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightWriterPhilosopher/pseuds/MidnightWriterPhilosopher
Summary: The Hogwarts Motto – “Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus” (“Never tickle a sleeping dragon”) may seem like a silly motto for the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the founders believed this saying held sage advice. Advice that they reverently hoped every young pupil who would learn in the castles hallowed halls would take to heart. For the founders feared what terrible consequences would befall the Wizarding world if such advice went unlearned.A fear that was well-founded, indeed, one that had been taught to them as young children. For even the magical world had their myth and legends, which spoke of a dark time when a powerful Mage would be born from the titaness of magic. The Mage would share his heart and soul with an ancient dragon and the Wizarding world would bow at his feet or it would burn and be made anew.A thousand years have come and gone since the founders walked the mortal plane. In that time, Wizarding folk have seemingly forgotten their respected elders’ advice for such a time has come. For the dragon is waking from its long sleep.
Series: Prelude Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952215
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

**Author's Note:**

> General Disclaimer: I own NO PART of the Harry Potter franchise. All Rights belong to J.K. Rowling, the publishing company who handles Harry Potter series, Universal Studios, etc.

Isle of Azkaban  
North Sea

A savage storm raged outside the dreary fortress walls. The wind howled fiercely as one icy wave after another battered the rocky shoreline of the tiny North Sea island that played host to the infamous magical prison known as Azkaban. A flash of lightening lit of the stormy sky followed by a loud clash of thunder. 

The island fortress was well known to house the darkest Witches and Wizards that magical Britain had ever produced, but for the last ten months it had also housed Magical Britain’s boy hero, Harry Potter. The fifteen-year-old, Harry, had spent the majority of what would have been his fifth school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry cooped up in the prison’s high security ward at upper most level of the prison fortress. His life taking a turn for the worst after the debacle that was his fourth year at Hogwarts when his name had spewed forth from blasted goblet’s flames. 

\----------------------------------------------------------Flashback---------------------------------------------------------- 

He was forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament against opponents four years his senior. Everyone believing he cheated, his school turning against him, but what was worse was his own friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, turning on him. Ron, he could believe because of the boy’s insane jealousy, but the loss of Hermione’s friendship and confidence had really stung. The death of Cedric and return of Voldemort from whatever cursed half-life he had been living was the worst or so he thought. 

Upon returning to the Dursleys for another summer, Harry thought he would have time to prepare a plan for dealing with his worst enemies return, but he only had a two-week reprieve before disaster struck Privet Drive. Two weeks after returning to the Dursley’s home, Harry was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of screaming and explosions. He had quickly dressed and grabbed as an explosion rocked the Dursley home. 

Harry was thrown violently to his bedroom floor. The roof and walls collapsing around him, he carefully makes his way through the rubble finding the mangled bodies of his aunt and uncle amongst the debris. The sight of them enough to make him ill. His vision swims before his eyes as he stumbles from the wrecked home to find Dudley writhing in agony on the front lawn before him stands the pale, nose less features of his worse fears manifested into some configuration of a man. 

Lord Voldemort stands tall in his black bellowing robes his wand pointed down as he holds the curse on Harry’s cousin. His red eyes alight with menacing glee a wicked smile on his face. 

“Harry Potter,” he hisses. “at last. You’ve arrived just in time for the fun.” 

A red beam of light erupts in his peripheral vision causing darkness to pervade his mind. 

\----------------------------------------------------------End Flashback----------------------------------------------------- 

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up some time later in this cell. The dementor guards keeping watch over their prisoners. The ever present cold and despair Harry’s new best friends. The insane cackling gibberish coming from the infamous dark witch, Bellatrix Lestrange, who just happens to be housed in the cell across from his. In the beginning the dark witch had been happy to torment him with her endless chatter, at least until, Harry had finally been able to clear his mind enough between dementor induced depression when they passed by the cells on their patrols. 

It had taken five weeks of sitting quietly in the same position for twenty hours a day. Harry would focus on his breathing, inhale and exhale, keeping his eyes closed and his mind blank. Then the memories would assault him when the guards grew ever closer to his cell. He would grit his teeth in anguish as he watched his parents die over and over, his years tormented by life at the Dursley home, and then his entrance into the Wizarding world. The memories of his time at Hogwarts had often brought him comfort and joy, but the months since his incarceration and exposure to the dementors warped the once treasured memories and feelings. 

Harry was currently deep in the recess of his mind; over the last few weeks he had felt another presence in his mind; actually, more than one. The foreign entity at the forefront caused Harry to feel ill and to recoil in disgust at the wrong feeling that surrounded that presence, which seemed to be concentrated around his scar and was only half formed. 

Then there was the presence of something far older and more powerful in the darkest areas of his mind. This other presence was not malicious like the first foreign entity it also gave a feeling of belonging as if he and the other mind belonged to one being. There were times where Harry believed that he could almost reach out and touch this other being. 

A sudden explosion jolted Harry from his meditation. The loud cackling laugh, he associated, with Bellatrix erupted from the gleeful witch. 

“I told you my master would come.” She yelled happily. 

Another explosion shook the fortress and another. He explosion more powerful than the last before finally a large whole was blowing apart the wall next to Harry’s cell. The debris went flying, knocking Harry violently into the wall. 

The wind howled and the rain pelted the dazed teen. “Bring the boy to me,” he heard the harsh hiss as the words sent chills down his spine. 

Harry was hoisted up by his arms as he was dragged from his cell by two of the dark lord’s followers. The two death eaters forced Harry to his knees before Voldemort. The cold hands of his enemy grasped roughly at his chin forcing his head up at an uncomfortable angle. 

A menacing sneer on the pale nose less face, “Harry Potter,” the dark lord hissed, “how does it feel to be reviled by the Wizarding world?” 

Red met green as the two enemies stared each other down, one in gleeful triumph and the other in defiance. Harry did not answer the monstrosity of a dark lord. “Well, what do you have to say?” 

“Pardon me, master,” groveled Bellatrix in a bid to get the dark lord’s attention. 

When Voldemort showed signs of listening, Bellatrix continued, “but itty-bitty Potter hasn’t spoken a word sense his arrival.”

Voldemort returned his attention to the boy, an evil grin gracing his thin lips, “Well then we will just have to make him talk.” 

Harry’s green eyes narrowed in hatred and spit on the dark lord. Voldemort released his hold on the boy’s chin. He swung his hand in fury connecting harshly with the boy’s cheek with a resounding smack, Harry’s head was whipped violently to the side. 

Voldemort sneered at the teen. His red eyes flashed red as lightening raced across the sky. “I see you still defy me, boy! That will not do. DO YOU not understand that you are ALL alone, boy? NO ONE will come to your rescue!” he hissed with fury. 

“YOUR so-called FRIENDS have abandoned you. They even gave testimony at your trial and to the newspapers about how you dragged them into danger year after year, about your dark talents with parseltongue, your need for attention, and how you were treated by your blood relatives, but then again you wouldn’t know anything about that would you because you were unable to attend said trial to speak on your behalf. Although, the court and the press were spell bound by the testimony given by your Polyjuice replacement.”

Harry’s eyes shown brightly with anger, he mustered what strength he could to lung towards Voldemort intent to strangle the man to death.

“CRUCIO!” the red beam of light signifying the pain curse flew from Voldemort’s yew wand and collided with Harry, hitting him square in the chest. 

Harry dropped to the ground and writhed in agony. The assembled prisoners and their masked comrades laughed and jeered at seeing the boy in pain. 

Voldemort, eventually, lifted the dark curse. Harry was left gasping for breath as the pain seemed to begin to subside. He lifted himself to his knees, his green eyes never leaving the dark lord’s. 

Seeing the boy continue to defy him angered the dark lord, - NO ONE defies me – he thought, aiming his wand at the boy he hollered, “CRUCIO!”

The spell flew from the dark lord’s wand, once again, hitting Harry in the chest, knocking him to the ground writhing in pain. The torture continued for several minutes until Voldemort struck upon the idea. 

“Bella!” Voldemort hissed harshly. 

“Yes, master?” she groveled. 

The first day, Harry, had arrived at the fortress. He had taken note of his fellow prisoner, Bellatrix, when she stepped from the shadows of her cell to get a look at the new arrival. His mind believed that the dark witch could have once been a great beauty upon first laying eyes on her that first day be arrived at Azkaban. There were still hints of such beauty even now, but Azkaban had taken its toll on the once aristocratic jawline, cheekbones, nose and her plump were now pale and gaunt. Her dark eyes were sunken into her skull from malnutrition and lack of sunlight and her teeth were rotting. Her once voluptuous curves were nothing but skin and bones hidden by grimy gray prisoner’s dress. Her long dark hair was matted and unwashed fell limply across her should and down her back. 

“Entertain me,” Harry heard Voldemort command, handing the dark witch her wand and favorite dagger. 

Bellatrix’s dark eyes lit up with child like glee, “Yes, master,” she took her favorite instruments of torture. “Do you have any requests, master?” she spoke gleefully. 

Voldemort seemed to ponder his follower’s words before his thin pale lips formed into a menacing sneer. “I don’t like the look of defiance in his eyes. Take one of them out.” 

“Yes, master,” the death eaters chuckled and jeered. Bellatrix shut them up with a look that promised pain for the next person who made a sound. When silence reigned again, she bowed lowly, “Any preference for which one I cut out, master.” 

The grip on Harry’s harms tightened as he struggled to get free, but he LeStrange brothers held tight to their charge. They Voldemort appraised his advisory, “the right one,” he hissed. 

Bellatrix stalked her prey as he struggled. The LeStrange brothers pinned Harry to the hard-uneven ground as Bellatrix straddled his waist, a twisted smile plastered across her lips, her odorous breath making him gag as he watched her bring the dagger closer. Harry tried to keep quite as she dug the dagger into his eyes, but he could not hold back the scream. 

The screams that she drew from Harry were relished by Voldemort and his followers; except for one lone masked death eater who wished to be anywhere else but here watching his long-lost loves son being tortured instead of acting. It was only the knowledge that the dark lord was watching him closely that kept him from moving. He could only hope that Lily would forgive him, and that the boy would soon be joining his mother. 

\--------------------------------------------------------Time Jump - 2 Hours------------------------------------------- 

“Enough!” Voldemort commanded. “We must depart soon.” 

Their time grew short, soon the sun would be up and the dayshift Auror’s would find that their comrades were dead, and the Wards around the Azkaban had fallen. 

“Rodulphus Rabastan! Stand the boy up,” Voldemort ordered, “We must leave the Ministry a message.” 

Rodulphus and Rabastan hoisted the beaten and bloodied boy before their master. The barely conscious boy could feel the cold wind whip around him. He glared at the dark lord through his swollen but still functional left eye. 

“Still defiant to the end I see,” Voldemort hissed, “So was your mother! Let him go,” Voldemort commanded. 

As the boy began to fall to the ground, unable to support his own weight in his weakened state, a yell of “Avada Kedavra!” and a flash of green light was hurled his way. It struck him in the chest with such force that it sent Harry sailing back threw the air, knocking him out of the destroyed fortress wall and falling towards the rocky shore below. 

A loud cackling laugh erupted from deep within Bellatrix. It was the only sounded that could be heard over the raging wind and the furious storm. Below the fortress lay the broken body of the boy-who-lived strewn on the jagged rocks as the violent ocean waves crashed against the shore. In the fortress the cracks and pops could barely be heard as the dark lord and his followers disappearing mixed with the sounds of the storm. 

\---------------------------------------------------------Scene Changes---------------------------------------------------- 

Lightning flashes across the sky. A loud clap of thunder echoes as waves crash into the rocks. The saltwater sprays soaking the body in frigid water. The lightning bolt scar above the body’s right eye rips open as an unnatural wail is heard. A disfigured face forms in a black cloud of flees the scar. The scar oozes a thick black liquid that soon changes to crimson before the scar knits itself back together into a thin white line. The injuries sustained by Bellatrix’s torture on his chest and back were long lacerations curtesy of Bellatrix’s dagger healed into thin white lines as they healed completely. 

A few second later, the left eye snaps open a slit for pupil. Loud snapping can be heard as bones break and mend. Harry’s body morphs into a gigantic voracious dragon with uniform midnight black armored scales with an evenly spaced maroon red scales along both his sides and underbelly. 

Instead, of the usual leather wings, the dragon Harry has black feathers on the back with a mix of wine, maroon and lava (reds) feathers on the underside of the wings. The wingspan is 246 feet and the body are 84 feet long, and 20 feet tall at the shoulder and 36 feet from ground to the top of the head. 

At the top of his head he two large spiral horns and a ridge of uniform maroon colored spikes along his neck, back and down to midtale. There are three small black spikes on the accessory carpal (elbow joint) and one small black spike on the tarsus (ankle). The front feet have four toes and declaw while the back feet have three toes and declaw. The upper canines (think saber-tooth lions) overlap the black lips and tongue. There is only one eye that is emerald green with a cat like slit. The right eyes have a leathery eye lid that can open but remains mostly closed. When the right eye opens there is a fiery ball of energy (think a small yellow sun). 

The dragon lets out a mighty roar that shakes the foundation of the of the very island. The Dementors swarm the newly born primal dragon lord and its immensely powerful soul. The dragon wanting to protect itself and its human alter ego from the soul stealing parasites; the interment maroon scales along the dragon’s sides and along his back glow and eerie blood red as he lets out a mighty flame of white-hot plasma. 

The dragon’s flame sets the first wave of soul eating parasites robes on fire before incinerating the beings. The Dementors seeing the violent deaths of their brethren flee, but the dragon flaps his wings furiously against the wind lifting itself into the sky for the first time in pursuit of his prey. The angry dragon pursues the Dementors through the sky cremating as many of them as he can before the Dementors ranks shrink from several hundred to just a dozen or more. 

The remaining Dementors flee their island home. The dragon’s rage is turned to the fortress prison that held his human half. With a mighty roar the dragon unleashes a stream of burning hot plasma torching the fortress, setting it on fire and crashing all the remaining magical security wards.

The dragon lands on the jagged rocks in satisfaction of his work. The weariness of the night’s events causes the dragon to sway as he begins to shrink in size. It’s dragon features fading to human, once again. Harry’s good eye rolled backwards in his head as he collapsed unconscious with fatigue. 

\--------------------------------------------------------Scene Changes------------------------------------------------- 

In the distance two figures slowly making its way to the island. The first-row boat’s ferryman unkept seamen from ancient Greece in his reddish brown toga and holding his ferryman pole in his right hand. The ferryman steers his small boat towards the island from the south. 

The second figure turns out to be a man with long wild reddish blonde hair and beard wearing a cloak varying blues and collapsed with a broach of knots of gold and silver and blues stones depicting an ocean waves and dolphins playing. He wears a simple tunic and pants with a simple, yet ornate gold circlet crown. Across his back is strapped a mighty sword and he carries a shield of on his left arm with three legs running in a circle (triskelion) in the shields center. This man road a chariot shaped like a rowboat and pulled by a mighty white stead. 

The two mythical beings reach the island at the same time. Their boat and chariot beached on the rocky shore. 

“Aye, what do ye be doing here, Charon?” the second being jumps to the ground from his chariot. 

“I have been sent to collect the new godling by the goddess so that they may train him in his new powers, Manannan.” Charon informed the Celtic deity. 

“Aye, and what would the Olympian goddesses be so interested in a Tuthe de Dannan prodigy?” questioned the tall broad shoulder god of the sea.

Charon observed dark-haired teen closely. His eyes widened and seeing the boy’s power and the overlapping aura’s that signaled the demigod belonged to not two, but multiple pantheons. The young fledgling god also held a power far greater than the Olympians had expected. The youngling’s soul and heart spoke of being far older and more animalistic in nature. It was almost as if the boy shared his soul and heart with other creatures.

“The boy’s mother was the Titan/Olympian Hecate. She gave her immortality and her life for that of her son. The goddess wishes to grant the boy his rightful place amongst them. Especially, Gaia, Asteria, Phoebe, Hebe, Hera, Artemis, Demeter, Persephone and Selene. They argued the boy’s case for deification and admittance to Olympus in front of Zeus ever since Hecate’s death. Zeus refused to grant the boy any help or divine status until the boy’s mortal death.

“That be a problem, Charon, because I to have been sent to fetch the godling for training.” Manannan sighed, “My foster father, Dagda, has granted his daughter, Brigid’s, and wife’s, Morrigan’s request to resurrect the last of the Potter line. A line founded by Brigid and a mortal wizard, named Linfred, in the twelfth century. 

“This my friends are a problem, but it can be easily remedied.” A man with the head of black and shaped like a jackal appeared before he had dark-tanned skin with a muscular chest shirtless and wore a short black wrap around skirt, known as a shendyt (kilt-like) with a belt of gold to secure the skirt around his waist. He wore an ornate pharaoh’s headdress with rich colors of gold, black and dark blue. He carried a staff with a wolf’s head in his left hand and an ankh in his right. 

“And why would ye be this far north, Anubis?” Manannan eyed his Egyptian counterpart. 

“For the same reason as the two of you, my friend’s.” Anubis wolf head said with a wide grin adorning his muzzle. 

“Explain?” said Charon. 

“Haris is the child of Hecate and therefore while he does have a claim as a Titan and Olympian,” he inclined his head in Charon’s direction acknowledging the ferryman’s question. “…but you forget that Hecate was also worshipped in ancient Egypt under the name Heqet/Heket. Hecate’s choice in mortal bodies to choose as an avatar was not random. She chose Lily Evans because Lily’s soul was the reincarnation of Heqet while Lily’s mortal husband James whose bloodline descended from the Tutha de Dannan,” Anubis nods his head in Manannan’s direction, “but his soul was that of Heqet’s husband Khnum. Because of this your young godling shares his soul with Her-ur (Horus the Elder) also known as Har, Heru, Hor; hence the reason she named him Haris, which is close enough in spelling and phonics to Horus and the reason she contacted me on the chance that he would need resurrecting. Though…” Anubis’s gaze was on the unconscious form of Haris. His eyes glowed as he judged the boy’s heart. 

He amusedly added, “…I don’t believe it would have been necessary to resurrect her son a second time.” 

“And why not?” Manannan asked curiously. 

“I first resurrected Haris after the current dark lord, Voldemort,” he snorted derisively at the mortals chosen moniker. “Tried to kill the Heqet’s child on that night fourteen years ago. At that time, I felt not one but multiple souls within the child. The first soul was pure and belonged Haris, himself, the second strong soul belonged to Horus/Her-ur, the third smaller and darker soul was but a shard that splintered from the dark lord’s soul as he tried to kill Haris. Most likely to create a horcrux.” Manannan and Charon had looks of disgust at the crazed mortal. “I share your disgust, friends, but you needn’t worry for the third soul is infinitely stronger, older and that of a dragon, a primordial dragon, the Ouroboros, in fact and it seems that are young charge also shares a dragon lords strong and pure heart. The Ouroboros and Heqet’s sacrifice kept the dark lord’s soul shard isolated so it hasn’t affected Haris and with his second death the soul shard was forced out and the Ouroboros has revived and healed Haris of his injuries.” 

“Haris is just unconscious and should waken soon.” Anubis eyes stopped glowing. He turned his head to his two companions. 

“Might I suggest that each pantheon have a hand in training the fledgling god and his Ouroboros counterpart.” Manannan and Charon thought over the idea. 

“Agreed.”

“Aye, I agree too, but who first” asked Manannan. 

“All of us,” Anubis suggested, “We create a neutral place outside of our domain’s.”

“Aye,” seconded Manannan. 

“Then it is decided,” Charon said his eyes going to Haris. “Until then Haris shall be kept in a neutral place outside time and space.” 

“One of the other pantheons could be persuaded to keep watch over Haris until such a place can be created.” suggested Manannan. 

“A neutral third party,” Anubis agreed. “That will work.” 

The three deities agreed to address their pantheons, but first they would take Haris from this dreadful place. The deities secured Haris in Charon’s rowboat as the fire had quickly reduced the fortress to smoldering rubble as they talked. The sun began to peak over the horizon in the east. The remnants of the storm clouds broke apart and the sun’s rays once again touched the island of Azkaban for the first time in centuries. 

Anubis climbed into Charon’s rowboat as the ferryman pushed off from the shore with his long pole. Manannan’s chariot was pulled along the waves by his trusty stead, Aonbharr. The trio and their charge disappeared on the horizon just as (pops) signaling the arrival of a contingent of Auror’s appeared to find the destroyed prison.


End file.
